


The Runaround

by VenusAran



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Peter Parker/Top Wade Wilson, Canon-Typical Violence, Crushes, Enemies to Lovers, Happy Ending, Humor, Identity Reveal, Inappropriate Humor, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Obsessive Behavior, Oral Sex, Out of Character, Porn With Plot, Secret Identity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-14
Updated: 2019-08-02
Packaged: 2020-05-07 18:37:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19215217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VenusAran/pseuds/VenusAran
Summary: Peter Parker is provocatively pining over a piece of pie named Wade Wilson, who is withstanding the witty and willing worshipper.





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a fic where Peter is the annoying obsessive one and Wade is the one resisting. Summaries are hard! Hope you enjoy! 
> 
> This is of course, very out of character.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is basically smut with a smidgen of plot.

Wade didn’t enjoy these types of jobs.

Who the hell wants to wait around for hours to shoot _one_ bullet?

Boring! He much preferred the flamboyant jobs where he can flop in and swing his katanas . . . But these ones pay better. And a little someone someone spent rent money on a vintage Hello Kitty coin purse, so money was tight.

Of course it turned out to be a scam, and the seller was for sure on Santapool’s kill list, but that’s not the point.

The point was . . . Well there is none. Wade is just uselessly rambling to himself on top of this building and waiting. Waiting for some balding business man to step in his line of sight. Then ka- **BOOM**. His head explodes like a ripe watermelon getting shot by a death tool.

Does he know if this man is bad? No. It didn’t really matter to Wade _who_ he was killing, but rather, that shiny price tag above their head. 

Heavens to Betsy was Wade getting tired of hearing his own voice (and a couple others) in his head.

“Deadpool!”

Wade frowned. Well that one was new.

“Deadpool! It’s me!”

Wait— is that who Wade thinks it is?

Oh _no_. It’s the kid. Spider-Man.

Spider-Man was a new hero on the scene, arriving to stop petty crimes only a year ago. He moved quickly in the ranks, joining the avengers and getting new shiny gadgets. You’d think he’d be a pristine, young thing but nope! The kid chose to spend these last few months following Wade around like a shadow, jeering inappropriate comments.

Maybe if Wade laid still he would go away? Doesn’t that work with real spiders? 

“Hey, you can’t ignore me forever!” The younger whined, plopping himself right next to Deadpool.

 _Oh how I wish I could._ Wade thought begrudgingly to himself. He’s surprised he hasn’t shot the kid— or at least hit him. He’s shot _at_  Spider-Man but the kid is too crafty. And persistent.

“Oh boy, if it isn’t my favorite stalker!” Wade sang sarcastically. “Tell you what, I’ll snip off a lock of hair if you leave me alone for two weeks. Do what you will with it. Clone me, bake it into a pie, whatever—! As long as you leave me alone.”

Spider-Man snorted. “It’s gonna take a lot more than that, Mr. Pool. So what are you up to?”

“Trying to—“

Wade looked back towards the building, his heart sinking and eyes widening as he realized the building was now _vacant_.

“Oh sweet hamburgers!” Wade cried. “You made me lose my shot!”

Spider-Man blinked. “Can’t you try again another day?”

Wade groaned with frustration, sitting back on his haunches and packing up his things. “No, the guy who hired me wanted him dead by _tonight_!”

“Sorry.”

“Sorry isn’t going to cut it!” Wade snapped darkly. “Unless you have 50 grand for me, then your words are shit!”

“ _50 grand_?” Spider-Man gapes. “For killing someone? Jeez . . .”

Wade sighed. “Why do you always gotta be my little shadow? If I wanted an entourage I would’ve been a good guy! Fuck, now I gotta find this fucking fuck.”

“How can I help?”

Wade scoffed. The kid couldn’t even kill a spider and yet he was offering to help Wade kill a human being. “Going home to sit in Daddy Stark’s lap would be a good start! Let’s try there!”

And with that, Wade took a running start to leap off the building and run across rooftops.

The mercenary scanned through his brain to find information on this man— his name was Michael? Frank? Franklin? That rung a bell!

Frank-Fuckity-Franklin. Launders money? Laundromat! Right, right, right, he owns a laundromat. Which is a front for laundering money.

Would he be there? Only one way to find out!

Wade clicked his teleportation device and set to work.

-

“Sounds bad.”

Peter sighed, “Sounds pretty bad! I mean, this guy is so _hot_ , MJ! No matter how hard I try, I can’t get over him!” 

MJ made a twisted expression in the FaceTime call. “Do you even know what he looks like?” 

“No,” Peter mumbled, scratching at his mask. Stark crafted a new suit for him a week ago, yet he still wasn’t used to how much it felt like _skin_. His previous suit actually had more of a helmet than a mask. It was much more breathable, but this was more superhero-y.

Tony was very much skeptical when Peter approached him with a new Spider-Man design. However, the kid seemed adamant and excited about this one.

Peter could remember Tony’s sneer.

 _“Ah, come on, really?” An upper lip curled in disgust. “Red and_ blue _? Webs? It’s tacky! Don’t you like the design that I made for you?”_

_Peter gulped and looked to his right, where a full body mirror reflected back his usual costume. It was mostly black with stripes of yellow that mimicked the thin legs of a spider, which was centered on his chest. The fabric and armor moved like a brilliantly reflective blue and purple while Peter maneuvered through it._

_It suited the name: Spider-Man. However, it was very grim and haunting. The eyes were narrow, glowed dull and seemed expressionless._

_It oddly reminded Peter of how Stark would design his own suits . . ._

_“Not my thing!” Peter laughed sheepishly. “I like the wide eye circle things more.” Will he ever admit that the wide eye circle things were influenced by his favorite mercenary? Probably not._

_Tony stared back, clearly unimpressed. “Sure, I’ll see what I can do about the ‘eye circle things’.”_

Peter remembered squealing. He couldn’t wait to show Deadpool how his new and improved costume looked! Hours and hours of researching Deadpool’s costume and it paid off! And by research, he meant stalking. Irrelevant, though.

The brunet couldn’t ever hope to match how the mercenary carried himself behind the mask anyhow.

Had Peter ever seen Deadpool underneath the mask before? His eyes squinted.

No. 

Of course, there was this one time Peter caught Deadpool at a food truck and he briefly saw a flash of marred skin around his mouth. Should Peter have been concerned over that? Maybe.

“Hello? Earth to Peter?”

Peter blinked and remembered he was on FaceTime with one of his closest friends . . . On top of a smelly dumpster in the middle of the night.

“Aren’t you going to continue to ramble on about this mysterious knight in shining armor?” MJ smirked. “What if he’s super ugly?”

“I don’t care what he looks like,” Peter decided, swinging his legs and thumping his heels rhythmically on the side of the dumpster. “I wish I could get over him.”

“Maybe you should just involve yourself more in the Avengers?” Mary Jane suggested gently. She hated seeing her best friend obsess over an older guy who treated him like garbage.

Peter sighed. “I dunno, that’s not going so well either.”

“Why, what happened?”

“Everyone underestimates me!” Peter whined. “Stark is the only one who believes in me. Everyone else treats me like I’m a baby. For Christ’s sake, Hawkeye tried to pour me coffee WHILE I was doing it myself!”

“You always burn yourself,” MJ shrugged a bit.

“Well I—“ 

The phone screen went black.

“Oh no!” Peter cried, clicking his home button frantically. 

Out of all the times for his phone to die, it had to be while he was in the middle of his shift. How was he supposed to get home?

“Oh great.” Peter whined, grabbing at his backpack to paw through it. And of course— he left his battery pack at home. The rest of this patrol is about to be completed without a phone!

The brunet sighed as he flicked a web upwards and scaled the building. Being without his phone made him on edge. It wasn’t because he was a millennial, but because he used his phone to communicate with the rest of the Avengers!

Suddenly, he felt a faint emptiness in his wrists and he began to fall.

Before he realized what was happening, he landed in the dumpster and all air escaped from his lungs. The stale stench of the dumpster shot upwards and around him, making Peter’s face clench. He blinked at the dark, starless sky before him. 

_I wonder if Tony attached laundry instructions to this new suit._

Recollecting his thoughts, he sat up and tinkered with his web slingers. They were clicking and whirring, but no webs were shooting out! Shit, he forgot to refill them last night! He stayed up playing Tekken with Ned.

He cursed gently and discarded the heavy webshooters. Peter shoved them into his bag, feeling frustrated and confused.

This officially had to be the worst night of his life. Except for maybe when Flash Thompson forced a urinal cake into his mouth during prom. Peter shuddered. 

With no safety from the streets below and no way to call for help, Peter hopped out of the dumpster and walked towards the next subway station. He scarcely remembered the way home and without the handy help of Google Maps, he was hopeless.

Maybe if he wandered around enough he could find Stark tower? Surely Tony was still there.

The back of his neck tingled and all the way down to his spine. He knew this feeling.

_What the—_

Peter instinctively ducked, narrowly missing a gunshot that rang his ears.

Instinctively, the brunet flipped upwards onto the wall of the neighboring building and looked for his attackers . . . a group of masked men wielding weapons. 

Peter felt a curl of nervousness in his stomach. He knew about these sorts of gangs that roamed the streets at night— they were made just for him!

His identity was something much valued and discussed. There were thousands of Internet forums trying to figure it out, plenty of news articles and teams of people (violent and non-violent) dedicated to finding his identity.

At this point, it’s become an urban legend around the world. Villains are willing to pay millions to get a hold of his name and news teams have reached out to him personally. 

Of course, Peter is extra careful with this. He takes many routes home, he moves apartments every few months (at the inconvenience of Aunt May and Uncle Ben, but he always finds a reason why), he wears two masks and never takes interviews.

“You got a pretty heavy price tag above your real name and face, Spider-Man,” one of the men sneers.

Peter chuckles nervously. “Fellas, fellas, that’s not a very nice way of trying to make friends! How bout we all just relax, spend a night on the town . . . 

The men stare back, unimpressed.

Peter cringes. “Tough crowd.”

And suddenly there’s a **_POP!_** next to Peter and he flies back further on the wall, realizing he was narrowly shot at. His back is tingling up and down with his Spidey sense. Everything about this is wrong.

With no way to simply swing away, Peter crawls quickly. His heart beat is ringing loudly in his ears as he is quickly scrambling along the wall and away from the men.

There’s a chill down his neck when there’s a sudden **_BANG!_** and a splintering pain that shoots from his arm. The glass beneath Peter splinters, and he looks into it. His eyes are wide and he’s shaking. There’s blood splattered all over the glass. The pain is subdued by the adrenaline that is pumping through his veins.

He’s been shot! He feels the blood soak through the fabric and he winces. The pain of the bullet is going to make it harder to get away and he’s definitely moving slower.

There’s a looming danger behind his neck as he changes course and decides to go up— he’ll reach the roof of this tall building and hide! That’s his best means of escape. It’s an exhausting trip, seeing as he’s using one injured limb to climb vertically.

He reaches the top of the building and gasps in a big breath— he’s made it! He can hardly hear the men cursing and jeering at him below. Peter is sure they might wait.

The brunet is lying on his back, blinking and dazed. He can’t breathe and he needs to breathe. The world beneath him is spinning slightly. 

He reaches upwards and starts peeling off his mask when he hears:

“Oh for the love of—“

Peter jumps up, startled, and yanks his mask back down. He sits up and looks to his left.

Deadpool!

Deadpool is standing there, arms crossed and looking as pissed as ever. Peter is shaking and breathing raggedly— his anxiety is through the roof. 

“Jeez, kid!” He curses, approaching the younger menacingly. “I find one of the tallest buildings and yet you still manage to find me. Do you have a Pool tracker on you? Who’s giving you intel? Is it—“

Peter pulls up the bottom of his mask and runs over to the other edge of the building, a pressure shooting up from his stomach. 

The brunet grips the edge of the concrete as he heaves violently. He’s paralyzed for a moment or two and absolutely overcome with embarrassment. He just threw up in front of the guy he’s been thirsting after for months.

What could he say? Clambering up a tall building with a shot arm and adrenaline would make anybody heave!

“Wow.” Was all Peter heard Deadpool say. “Haven’t had someone throw up that quickly at the sight of me before. New record!”

Peter cringed and pulled his mask back over his mouth, feeling sorry for getting blood and now vomit over two sides of the building. In front of his crush, no less.

Before Peter could turn around and mouth diarrhea an apology to Deadpool, the man before him yelped.

“Woah, Spidey!” Deadpool cried. “What happened to your arm?”

Peter collapsed and sat against the edge of the building. “It’s—it’s nothing. Just got into a bit of a scuffle. New York bullies, y’know?” He barked a nervous laughter.

Usually, the younger wouldn’t hesitate to spew off a couple of innuendos towards the mercenary, maybe something about Peter having another hole he’d like to show Deadpool— but he couldn’t find the guts at the moment.

The night was still shitty and Peter felt more defeated than ever. It only made sense that whatever gods were out there would send Deadpool his way.

Deadpool paused for a moment before walking forward to kneel next to the young avenger. Peter’s head began bobbing as he grew tired. 

“No falling asleep!” Deadpool snapped, opening various patches on his suit. Peter could hardly see what the mercenary was doing— were those bandaids? “I need you awake. I mean, usually I’d love to knock you unconscious but looks like someone tried to do that for me.”

The brunet blinked harshly and forced himself to sit up. He knew he would be okay. It wasn’t his first rodeo with a gunshot wound and his healing factor would make him good as new the next day. 

Peter jumped. “What are you doing?!” 

Deadpool stared at him, dumbfounded. “Cutting out a piece of your costume?”

He began to panic again. Was it fixable? It was very expensive! Would Stark be mad? Would—

“Hold the train wreck, Spidey,” Deadpool held up a hand. “I need to get to the wound. To clean it, see? Don’t want it to heal over and a bug got in or something. Hey, do you lay eggs?”

Peter pressed his lips together and let Deadpool tend to his wounds. He wasn’t sure how to feel right now. Maybe he was meant to feel embarrassment? Relief? Adrenaline?

Whatever it was he puked it over the side of the building and now felt hungry.

“I want a hot dog,” the brunet voiced.

A pair of masked eyes blinked at him. “That’s it?”

Peter furrowed his brows. “Huh?”

“You’re not freaking out?” Deadpool frowned. “I’m tending to your wounds. Me, the ugly mug you’re in love with? This is a scene ripped straight from your diary and yet you’re talking about food?”

His head was spinning. “I just want to go home.”

“Mind if I ask who did this?” Deadpool asked. “I mean, maybe I should give them some pointers on how to actually aim, right?”

An uneasy chuckle followed. Deadpool was an asshole to him, no doubt about that. But he was chirpy and funny. It puts Peter on edge and in all the right ways.

“Well, thanks.” Peter croaked, wincing as he felt long tweezers extract parts of he bullet in his arms. “Did you manage to shoot the guy? From earlier?”

Deadpool perked up. “Oh yeah! Yes! Shot him right where it hurt ‘em! His brain! Then I snapped a couple pics and found this nice building to stargaze— oh, how I love a good post-killing high!”

Peter stared. “New York doesn’t have stars.”

“Well, not with your tone!” Deadpool remarked.

He continued to chatter, which was much more than usual. It made Peter nervous.

He’s never had such an intimate one on one time with Deadpool before. Interactions with the mercenary goes as follows: Peter finds him, makes him a sexual object and then the mercenary tells him to back off and flees. Sometimes, Peter gets shot at. It’s super romantic.

But now . . . Peter is too shaken to spew some shallow remarks about Deadpool. He was shot and scared. Even if he could muster something, his body was screaming at him not too. This was the longest that Deadpool has ever spoken to him.

 “—and she was like, ‘ _Wade! You can’t just say those things in front of my mom!_ ’ But it was well deserved, so—“

“Wade?” Peter blinked. “Is that your name?” 

Deadpool froze. “You remember nothing.”

And before Peter could even process what was happening, Deadpool ran off and disappeared into thin air.

Peter blinked.

 _Wade_.

At least now he knew a name to moan to. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (If you were curious on how Peter’s previous costume looked, I found this image that I based it off)
> 
> https://storage.googleapis.com/storage.comicsverse.com/uploads/2018/06/18efc5e1-spider-man-no-one-dies-armor.jpg
> 
> Forgive my ignorance as I don’t know how to attach links in descriptions ;~;


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will be the last chapter! It takes me quite awhile to write smut. For some reason, it’s exceptionally difficult and requires a bit more attention than a simple scene. 
> 
> But thanks for being patient, hope you enjoy!

Peter tapped his heels against the side of the building nervously, his eyes scanning the opposing roof tops nervously, looking for a red clad mercenary.

It was his day off— which he chose to spend in costume.

Ned was less than impressed with this, as they usually spend Peter’s one day off studying and playing video games. But this was important! He had to thank Wade for taking care of him, which he really didn’t have to do.

The wound healed overnight, which he definitely had Wade to thank for. Without the mercenary’s medical attention, it definitely would’ve taken longer.

That had to have meant Wade cared for him some way or another . . . Right? At least a little? Regardless, the college student felt an obligation to show his gratitude.

Peter couldn’t stop obsessing over his crush’s name.

_Wade . . ._

Peter’s heart raced and he bit back a smile underneath his suit. He loved the name— he loved saying it, writing it, reading it and thinking of it.

The name flowed from his mouth easily, whether he was moaning it or simply repeating it to himself whenever the masked mercenary crossed his mind.

His heart was thumping with the idea of seeing Wade tonight. Peter has no patrol, no tests tomorrow and nothing stopping him. He was planning on telling Wade how he truly felt.

“Oh, cripes.”

Peter turned excitedly, seeing Wade standing there! God, the rush of adrenaline that came when the red and black suit popped up was indescribable.

“How did you know I’d be here?” Wade asked, clearly annoyed. Although it felt redundant to continually ask that at each encounter, as Peter always managed to track him down.

“This is your break building!” Peter grinned, standing and facing his hero. “Your nudie magazines are in that drain and there’s a sleeping bag over there! Wasn’t hard to track this down. After all, I am faster than you.”

Wade huffed. “Well aren’t you a little Nancy Drew! Say, why don’t you solve this mystery? I don’t fucking like you, so where should you skedaddle off to next?”

Peter rolled his eyes. “Wade—“

“I did NOT give you permission to call me that. That is a BREACH of privacy and I have every right to call the Avengers on your ass, sicko!”

The college student froze momentarily, Wade seemed more agitated today, but hopefully that will change soon. “I’m here to say thank you! I brought you gifts— some toys, cheese dip, gun cleaner—“

“Stop.”

Peter frowned. “You helped me out! I just want to show you I’m grateful. You didn’t have to do that, really.” His heart was panicking a bit. Wade hasn’t acted this cold and calculated _before_ , so why now?

“Why do you like me?”

“Huh?”

“I want to know. What is it about me that makes you like me?” Wade elaborated, stepping forward. “You’ve been following me around like a shadow for the past 6 months and developed this little crush . . . it was flattering, but this _prank_ needs to be done with.”

“Prank?” Peter blubbered. “What prank?”

“This joke is very mean,” Wade said coldly. “Whoever put you up to this— tell them to stop! I get it now, I’m too ugly to be loved— ever! They didn’t need to send some twunk to reinforce that for me!”

 _What the hell is a twunk?_ Peter thought, his mind racing. _And what is Wade talking about?_

The mercenary huffed. “The avengers sure are clever . . . Sending some hot thing to tease me!”

“Wade,” Peter began. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. No one set me up to do this. I promise.”

Deadpool stared at him and for a moment, Peter was afraid.

And a little aroused.

Sure, there were flashes of moments where Wade would reveal his more serious and perhaps sinister self, but those were only flashes. Peter wasn’t ashamed to admit that that version of Deadpool drifted into one or more wet dream.

“You don’t know what I look like. How can you be so obsessed with someone and not know what they look like? I’ve shot out more than enough brain cells, but I’m not _that_ dumb.”

Peter rolled his eyes. “That doesn’t matter.”

“Oh really? Ten bucks says you won’t throw up.”

With that, Wade reached for the bottom of his mask and lifted it, resting it on the crown of his head like a beanie. Wade knew this act: he would take off his mask for shock value, making people vomit or run away.

Fun party game.

Peter’s eyes widened.

Wade is _hot_.

“Wow,” was all Peter could manage. “You owe me $10.” With that kind of bone structure, Peter almost felt obligated to pay _Wade_ $10.

Wade had an amazing bone structure. His jawline, his cheekbones and eyebrow ridges— it was the sort of skull you’d see in a model. The face underneath was undeniably good looking.

And his eyes . . . Wow his eyes were beautiful. They were a deep oak color, shining and soft looking.

Yes, of course, he had no hair and there were scars _everywhere_ but Peter didn’t mind those. As bad as it sounds to say, he’s seen much worse in his academic career. Lab samples could rival Wade’s skin any day.

Wade scowled and forced his mask back over his head. “Jeez, you’re in deep. Well here, here’s your ten bucks. Buy a candy bar, or something.”

The mercenary shoved a gloved hand into a pouch and threw a wrinkled bill at Peter’s feet. The college student stepped back and stared at it.

“Do ya still like me now?” Wade asked accusingly. “Your item of affection looks like an avocado had sex with Mickey Rourke. You still want a piece of that?”

Peter’s nose wrinkled at Wade’s creative descriptor, but nonetheless, he didn’t falter.

“I still do,” The avenger affirmed. “And I _like_ the way you look, even if you don’t believe me. But I like you for other reasons too.”

Wade stared at him for a long time.

Peter straightened his posture, unsure of what to expect next from the unreadable and explosive mercenary.

“Prove it,” Wade chirped. “I guarantee that as soon as your hands touch the topographic map of Colorado that is my naked body, you won’t like me anymore!”

The brunet faltered. On one hand, he wanted to applaud how many self-loathing descriptions Wade kept on hand for himself, and yet . . .

“Is that the only way you’d know for sure I like you?”

“Yes.”

Peter wanted to be hurt because well, Wade was hurt. He knew the familiar sensation of having a self esteem so low it can only seek moments of validation through sex.

“I want to take you out on a date.” Peter objected. “I want to show you a good time and show that you are worth it.”

“So fuck me.” Wade proposed again, a sinister yet calculating tone behind the three words. “If you can have sex with me, then you can take me out.”

“No,” Peter reinstated. It’s not that he didn’t want to have sex with him, it’s that he _shouldn’t_.

Despite all the lusting that Peter has made clear for the past few months, his crush was deeper than that. He respected Wade more than that.

In all the impossible scenarios that helped Spider-Man drift off to sleep at night, he imagined finally winning Wade over through an intimate date night. You know, one filled with laughter, warmth and vulnerability.

Peter’s first time wanted to be comfortable and agreed upon, not coerced.

“Then you don’t like me. Now stop wasting your time.”

Wade left shortly after, making Peter’s fist clench.

-

Wade stepped forward and out of the elevator. He’s rhythmically tapping the weapons at his side, his fingers itching to grab one and spray bullets everywhere. He’s gotten used to a certain rotation of weapons, which sounds unrealistic for the merc, but what can he say? Efficiency is king.

He hurried down the thick carpeted hallway and scanned the room numbers, looking for a specific room 332. The hotel was real standard, and judging by the chandelier, probably one of the cheaper ones on this side of town.

This was a job sent to him by email. Wade never opens his email, any clients know to run their requests through Weasel, but this was different.

The subject line read **$$$$$!!** which was rather unprofessional. He loved it and knew he had to snag it right away.

The email itself was brief, saying something about busting down an illegal beanie baby ring. That wasn’t strange, he’s had more niche killing jobs than this.

Boy, was Wade excited. If anyone knew anything about anything, Wade knew his beanie babies and what a pretty diamond some of them cost nowadays.

As he approached the door, many ideas swirled in his head about entering. Shall he break into dance? Immediately start shooting?

 _Shoot!_ A voice in his head cried. _Shoot, shoot!_

“What about the beanie babies?” Wade tsked, deciding on simply entering. He usually didn’t mind casualties in his work but for fuck’s sake they’re beanie babies.

As he knocked on the door, Wade began to feel giddy at the anticipation; the dopamine rush before a new mission was unbeatable!

He brought out a simple pistol, clicking it into **KILL** mode and pressed it against the now opening door . . .

And he almost pulled the trigger when he saw—

_Spider-Man!?_

It was Spider-Man!

And no beanie babies in sight.

“What is this?” Wade asked. “Where are the beanie babies?”

Unfortunately, there were no bad guys to be bested today! Only a Spider-Man, standing in the doorway with—with a bouquet of flowers?

Hey, what the hell?

“Hi, Wade,” Peter spoke dumbly. “Please don’t shoot me.”

Wade stiffened before comically put his gun away, visibly frustrated.

“Oh, _you_! Why is it that you are always managing to pop up and bug me?!” The mercenary blinked. “Bug . . . Oh my god, that’s good. I swear to you, Spidey, they will _regret_ not recruiting me into Saturday night live.”

Peter stared back, his weight shifting from foot to foot nervously. He knew he did a very deceiving thing here, but there was also no way Wade would’ve agreed to a date if he wasn’t coerced.

“Point blank, why am I here?” Wade asked.

The brunet’s brow furrowed. “I’m not sure that’s how the expression goes.”

“Whatever!” Wade’s pitch went up. “What do you want? Are you going to pay me? Is there someone for me to kill? Because I got a bad kill vibe going on right now and if I don’t shoot something—“

“I brought you some tacos and sopas from that truck on 4th street.”

“Oh.”

And just like that, Wade’s walls were frustratingly knocked down. Some little piggies were about to get gobbled up by a prepubescent spider-wolf . . . Thing.

The avenger stepped aside and allowed Wade to enter. The mercenary looked around the hotel. It was small, expensive and cold. Nothing was more on par with New York City than this exact experience.

“I’m just here for tacos,” Wade attempted to pathetically explain. “Not because of—of anything else!”

Peter shut the door. “That’s fine, Wade. Uh, I have a movie playing. Do you like Disney?”

“ _No_.”

“Well that’s what’s playing.”

“Disney can suck a nut,” Wade boldly announced, making his way to sit on the edge of the bed. “With their disposable superhero movies and live action cash grabs.”

_Careful now, Disney might have your ass if you speak poorly upon their name._

“Ugh I wish I cared,” Wade grumbled.

Peter perked up hopefully, seizing the opportunity to jump in on a conversation with the mercenary. The brunet sat himself right next to the mercenary, making the bed sink even more.

“I don’t care for Disney myself!” Peter said joyfully. “I just— maybe I don’t get it.”

Wade blinked at him. “Wow! A young person not into Disney. You’re truly the marvel of your generation.”

_Hah! Marvel._

Peter scoffed. “Thanks. I really try hard to not be like all the other girls my age, y’know?”

“Of course. You’re lusting after an older man who doesn’t think of you twice. That really screams extraordinary.”

“Why are you so mean?” Peter blatantly asks.

Wade hesitated, an audible and contemplative hum sounding from his throat. He didn’t expect the hero to be so blunt about it, but if he was really that clueless, then Wade had no qualms about educating him.

“Well, let’s see! You’ve been following me around like some sort of _stalker_ for the past six months, you make comments about my dick all the time, you’re annoying—“

Masked eyes narrowed. “So why are you still here?”

Huh, I never thought about that.

“I don’t know,” Wade admitted. “I mean, I don’t hate you, kid. I just— why me?”

Wade honestly and truly didn’t mind being lusted after. At first. It fueled his ego and made him feel important. But the longer and more persistent Spider-Man became, the more it put Wade on edge. It made him paranoid and angry.

“I told you,” Peter pressed. “I told you that I think you’re the greatest. You keep going, you find humor in all the darkness and you’re just bad ass!”

Wade frowned a bit. “Is that it? I mean, the dark humor and bad assery is sort of my gig. Walk into any Spencer’s and you’ll find my merch stretched over the pork belly of some fedora wearing incel. I sell perfectly to assholes who think I’m the mascot of all things offensive and ‘honest’.”

“Wow, that was _really_ specific.”

“I’m a fan for observational commentary.”

Peter exhaled through his nose. “Well, if you’re really that curious, no. I like you because you give me the time of day. Relatively speaking.”

The mercenary froze a bit. He really thought this kid was the gem of the Avengers. Aren’t they all in love with him? Don’t they fawn over their precious Stark Jr.?

Maybe the kid has it rougher than he’s thought.

“Well, get used to being shut down a lot.” Wade grumbled. “In today’s climate of heroes, don’t be surprised you aren’t as marketable as an Iron Man or Captain America.”

Peter sighed wistfully. “Yeah, I guess so. You want to dive into some tacos and have girl talk?”

“Nothing would make my night better.”

And so, the duo talked and talked. Not as an admirer and object of affection, but as two guys who simply had a lot in common. Mexican food was eaten, crumbs and discarded napkins littering the bed.

Wade was surprised to find out the kid had more words in his vocabulary than those used regularly to sexually harass Wade. He was actually quite smart and articulate. His words were quick and thoughtful.

Peter was elated to know that Wade was willing to talk to him like this. He was hesitant at first, but their conversation ended up flowing for hours.

Until . . .

“And my Aunt May said, ‘ _Oh, Peter. Don’t say such things in front of—_ ‘“

“Peter?”

Oh shit.

An uncomfortable, icy chill shot down into his gut and suddenly it was very hard to swallow.

How could he be so tactless? To just _reveal_ his first name like that in conversation? He couldn’t believe himself. He’s so stupid!

Wade hated him not three hours ago! He could sell his name using the mercenary black markets! Then they’ll figure out his last name, where he lived, what school he went to and Aunt May! Oh god, Aunt May!

“I like it!” Wade chirped. “Peter is a dorky name. And don’t worry, I won’t sell you out. I already figured out where you lived. If I wanted you gone we wouldn’t be here.”

A chortled laugh came from Peter’s throat. “That’s—Thanks. I appreciate it.”

“Does that mean you’re gonna take your mask off?”

Brown eyebrows shot up. “Wow. Um. No.”

The mercenary pouted. “Awe, come on, Pete! I already know your name! Might as well make the full stride.”

He has a point.

The brunet sighed and began to tug at his mask, a nervous tic that developed with his new costume.

He’s dreamt about the day he would finally reveal himself to Wade. A giant battle between the duo and maybe, Doc Ock? Who knows. It would just be big and dramatic.

Peter would be thrown against a brick wall, smoke from the nearby destruction filling the air. His head would be spinning from the sudden impact and his lungs filled with smoke.

Wade would rush over, his heart aching. His movements desperate and uncoordinated. His pleading voice would call for him, begging him to still be alive. 

He would hold a wounded Peter in his arms, scratches and scuffs tarnishing his vibrant blue and red suit.

Wade would then peel his mask off and kiss him.

That was just a fantasy, though. Something born from an overactive and lovesick mind.

“Fine, I guess,” Peter mumbled, lifting the bottom of his mask and feeling it peel from his cheeks and forehead. He winced as he felt the sweat make his mask that much harder to peel off.

White, masked eyes widened as Peter ruffled his thick brown hair. He blinked and adjusted to the light with his naked eyes.

“Wow,” Wade mumbled. “You kinda look like a deer.”

Peter grinned. “Thanks.”

“Your teeth are crooked!”

Before Peter could shoot up self conscious hands to cover his mouth, Wade was quick to grab them.

“No! No, no, no. That’s not a bad thing. Sorry! I was just surprised! They’re cute, really.”

The brunet smiled sheepishly. “You think so?” Peter’s toes curled in embarrassment. Never would he have thought in a million years that Deadpool would be calling him/ cute!

“Yes! It’s just, y’know, I built up this image of Spider-Man in my head for so long . . . I thought you’d be this turbo jock with striking blond hair, a Hollywood smile . . . It’s kinda refreshing.”

“Glad you find solace in my poor genetics.”

Wade scoffed. “Oh shut it. I’m sure you’ve have a nice deck of Grindr matches.”

Peter shrunk in his seat, feeling his cheeks turn a nice shade of baby pink.

Wade wasn’t incorrect. Being able to maneuver around all of New York gave him an upper hand in finding more dates online, but he’s never had the guts to meet in person.

“I don’t use Grindr that seriously!” Peter blurted. “I mean, I’m still like— a virgin and I don’t think Spider-Man has any room in his life for dating. Much less, a civilian.”

Wade cocked a brow. “Uh—“

“Plus it’s too hard!” Peter continued. “It’s too risky to date a normal person because I’m not normal. And I don’t find anyone else attractive except for you. So there.”

“Peter.”

The brunet blinked. “Huh?”

“Stop talking.” The older urged before leaning forward and pressing a masked kiss to Peter’s pale lips.

They kiss tentatively and slowly at first. The sensation of Wade’s lips was foreign, yet soft and inviting. This brewed a moment that urged Peter to close his eyes and deepen the kiss.

It was strange, kissing another through a fabric mask, but it was also oddly erotic. It felt like the fire that fueled many of Peter’s wet dreams before.

“Off,” The hero mumbled against Wade’s lips, his hands reaching up and slipping under his mask.

“No,” Wade replied back. “Please don’t make me.”

Peter pulled away, staring at the mercenary pleadingly. Wade averted his gaze and rubbed the back of his neck.

“Please take it off for me,” Peter urged gently, taking the bigger hands in his own. “I promise I’ll still be here in the morning. I told you I’ll prove to you you’re worth it. Please.”

Wade thought carefully. Peter’s words were promising. He’s never done something like this before, revealing himself so intimately.

Fuck it.

He sighed and unzipped the back of his mask, the red and black fabric crumpling around him. Those soft and delicate looking brown eyes appeared once more, shooting Peter a concerned look.

“There, ya happy?” Wade frowned. “You’re seeing me. Ugly me.”

Without another word, Peter leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to the older’s textured cheek.

“I love it,” Peter whispered, before pressing light and feather kisses to the scarred neck.

Wade stifled a moan, his gloved hands running up and down Peter’s back. His finger tips gripped slightly whenever Peter maneuvered his soft tongue a certain way.

Feeling his hot and wet breath on his ear, the tightness in Wade’s costume only grew that much tighter.

It was obvious that Peter was indulging in this opportunity to live his fantasy. He now positioned himself on top of Wade, his knees straddling his groin.

Peter moaned at this new position, feeling Wade’s stiff manhood pressing against his own. His own hands gripped at Wade’s broad shoulders as his lips traveled up and met the mercenary’s once more.

“I’ve always wanted to do this,” Peter groans, gulping at the drunken look that Wade wore. “Always wanted you inside me. Touched myself every night.”

Wade snorted. “Can’t say I’ve completely ignored the way your ass looked in that new costume of yours.” With that, he reached a strong hand downwards and gave Peter’s behind a firm smack. He grabbed the muscle in his hands and gripped it harshly.

“You want me to be inside you, baby boy?” Wade asked lowly, his fingertips digging in to brush against Peter’s entrance through the fabric.

The brunet nodded. “Y-Yes, please.”

Without another word, Peter pressed on Wade’s chest and forced the mercenary to lay on his back.

The brunet rose quickly to undress himself, never averting his gaze from Wade. Wade watched hungrily, beginning to strip off his own costume.

“I brought lube,” Peter mentioned, finding the small bottle in a backpack besides the bed.

“Someone was optimistic about the outcome of this date,” Wade remarked, his legs folding and kicking the rest of his costume off.

Peter grinned, approaching Wade once more on the bed. He knelt before the mercenary’s thick thighs, impressed with the length and girth of his cock.

Wade perched himself on his elbows, watching Peter carefully.

“You’ve never sucked a dick before, have you?” Wade asked, his thighs on fire with the kisses Peter pressed onto his skin.

Brown eyes darted up nervously. “No. You think you can give me a quick tutorial?”

“No teeth and take your time,” Wade simply replied. “I also like— _nngh_!”

His sentence was abruptly cut short by a wet and warm stripe that was licked up the length of his cock.

“Tastes so good,” he heard Peter mumble before the hero swallowed the tip of his cock into his mouth. This made the mercenary stifle a groan and writhe uncomfortably beneath the hero.

Peter closed his eyes at the taste. It was salty and tasted like flesh, but it was _Wade_. His cock was slightly scarred, but the skin was still soft and silky.

Soon, Peter began bobbing his head and using his hand to grip the base of Wade’s cock. His hand jerked Wade off into his wet mouth. Saliva began to coat Wade’s cock entirely, making Peter’s hand slick.

The younger hero’s jaw began to ache, but he didn’t care. Having Wade’s impressive manhood in his mouth was like living a dream. And he wasn’t planning on stopping anytime soon. Having his mouth full with the object of his affections was an entirely new euphoria.

“C’mere,” Was all the brunet heard before being picked up by strong arms.

In a blurred flash, Peter was now face down on the bed with his pert ass arched in the air.

He felt strong hands clap against his cheeks, wiggling them experimentally. Peter furrowed his brows but arched into the feeling, wanting more.

“I wanna see how you taste, too,” Wade mumbled before diving forward and licking a flat stripe against Peter’s entrance.

The unfamiliar but feathery sensation elicited a moan from the brunet. The wet and firm muscle of Wade’s tongue wiggled and licked all around Peter’s entrance before finally entering. Wade tongue-fucked him with such certainty, it made Peter sting with jealousy at the thought of all the others Wade had been able to practice on.

Peter groaned into the pillow case, gripping it harshly and recoiling at the sensation of his entrance being so wet and vulnerable.

He reached a hand down and began lightly stroking his manhood, the combined sensitivity drawing a warm and familiar feeling in his gut.

“Wade—! _Haah_ . . . Mm, I’m close!” Peter called out.

Without a reply, Wade sped up his pace, his head now bobbing and his tongue licking more desperately.

Peter’s moans filled the air, rising in pitch and being interrupted by periodic gasps of air. He chanted Wade’s name like a prayer, the words swirling together in a haze.

Finally, Wade stopped, forcing Peter’s orgasm to subside. Peter regained his breath, his vision and mind swirling.

He felt pressure off the bed lighten. Peter was too shaken to care to catch a glimpse of what Wade was doing.

“I’m gonna fuck you so good,” Wade promised, popping the small bottle open. He coated his fingers liberally, drinking in the sight of Peter’s delicious looking entrance arched on the bed.

The hero moaned as he felt Wade’s slick fingers enter him. It was an unfamiliar sensation that slightly burned, but when a rhythm was established, Peter fell into ecstasy.

The mercenary stretched Peter’s hole, spreading his fingers and applying more lube when needed. Wade watched Peter react to every movement, every twitch and groan.

The brunet responded by gripping the sheets beneath him and forcing himself to relax. He knew that losing his virginity to someone like Wade wasn’t going to be as painless as thought once before.

“You’re doing so good,” Wade spoke, pressing his lips to one of Peter’s buttocks. “Tell me when you feel ready.”

Peter bit his bottom lip and smiled into the pillow. He was pleasantly surprised with how patient Wade was acting with this. It only made the mercenary that much more desirable.

“Am ready,” Peter croaked. “Start slow please.”

Wade pressed a final kiss to the backside of Peter before retreating once again.

Suddenly, the younger hero felt a thick presence at his entrance. Peter grabbed a pillow and held it underneath his chest, clutching it tightly.

He felt one hand press against his backside while Wade’s other hand was presumably guiding his cock.

Upon entering, the two men groaned in unison. Peter maintained his arched posture, determined.

“So tight,” Wade mumbled. “Fuck, baby boy, you’re so tight!”

“More.”

Wade slapped a hand onto Peter’s buttock and followed orders, pushing his strong hips forward.

Peter groaned in a high pitch as he felt his insides being molded around Wade’s impressive manhood.

The mercenary withdrew and snapped his hips forward again, eliciting a yelp from Peter. Wade only found joy in a reaction like that, so he started going at a harsh and steady pace.

This made Peter cling to the bedsheets as he felt his whole body rock along with the motion.

“You look so good underneath me,” Wade grinned, gripping his hips and thrusting harshly. “Fuck, Peter.”

The use of his civilian name only made the hero breathless. He enjoyed hearing his name slip from the sinful lips of the mercenary.

The sounds of skin slapping and Peter’s wanton moans filled the air, only drawing Wade closer and closer to orgasm.

The mercenary lowered himself down to whisper into Peter’s ear. He started by pressing rough kisses to the boy’s soft skin, making the hero curl beneath him.

“You feel so good around my cock, baby boy.” Wade whispered. “I never knew you could look so good like this. Never knew you could feel like this, Peter.”

A hand rose and tangled itself into the thick brown curls on Peter’s head. Wade pressed his head down into the pillows, initiating yet another chorus of moans.

“W-Wade!” Peter’s muffled cries filled the room. “Mm— don’t stop! Please, yes—! Agh!”

Wade pounded his cock harder and harder into the begging college student, an orgasm edging closer and closer.

With Wade’s other hand, he raked his fingertips down the other’s bare back, making the young avenger writhe and moan.

“F-Faster!” Peter pleaded. “I’m—I’m gonna—“

Wade didn’t have to be told twice. Against his aching muscles protesting, Wade quickened his pace and thrusted into Peter with a different speed.

“Love hearing you moan,” Wade growled. “Keep going, baby boy.”

“Mmh, Wade— yes, yes, yes! Don’t—stop—I’m—“

The mercenary reached a hand around his waist and gripped Peter’s already leaking cock.

This proved to be too much, as an electric yet numbing sensation took over Peter’s shaking body. With a choked moan and desperate gasps for air, he came into Wade’s hand, with some fluid leaking onto the bed.

Feeling the suffocating sensation on his cock, Wade felt his mind go blank and his body involuntary shudder. He felt himself empty into Peter, the air from his lungs escaping. The front of his thighs went numb and a tingling sensation shot throughout the core of his body.

The frantic energy around the couple seemed to calm and with tired eyes, Peter looked over at Wade.

Wade stared back at him, his gaze lowering and his breath steadying.

“That was good,” Peter remarked hoarsely. “Uh— thanks!”

“Anytime,” Wade smirked. With an uncomfortable squelching noise, Wade pulled his semi-erect member out of Peter.

The mercenary returned moments later, cleaning Peter with a small towel. His movements were gentle and cautious. The young avenger enjoyed this. Using his remaining strength, he grabbed Wade’s strong arm and pulled him into bed.

The brunet fell asleep against a large source of warmth, his eyes feeling heavy.

-

When Peter awoke, the bed was empty.

He sat up, his brain pulsating his mouth feeling dry. He scanned the room, noticing a shade of pink decorating the walls.

_Ah, hours must’ve passed._

He felt a twinge of sadness when he realized there was no trace of Wade to be left in the room.

So that was it then.

Wade simply enjoyed the shallow physical relationship they had and left in a hurry. Perhaps regret had set it in too quickly, and the mercenary left before dealing with the consequences.

Peter stood and began looking for his clothes. He reached for his mask.

As he did, a piece of paper fluttered onto the floor, landing at the hero’s feet.

With furrowed brows, he picked up the crumpled paper and examined it.

Drawn crudely on there was a couple of stick figures engaging in sex. This was no doubt, meant to be an illustration of what happened earlier. One of the stock figures even had a sloppily drawn Spider-Man mask.

Right underneath the illustration, was 10 digits.

**_XXX-XXX-XXXX_ **

**_-Your Friendly, Neighborhood Booty Call!_ **

**_See you soon, baby boy xx_ **

Peter couldn’t help but feel his mouth stretch into a smile, he folded the piece of paper neatly into his backpack and swung out the window, the wind making him feel a bit more confident.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought it would be nice to give them a wholesome ending. But thanks for reading, it’s been fun while it lasted! Comments appreciated, hope to see you soon.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
